


The Art of Death

by EmberandShadow



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, fluff(ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6053614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberandShadow/pseuds/EmberandShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald can't take it anymore, and maybe ending it all is the only way to fix everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Death

Oswald had often thought about death. Oh yes, he’d contemplated death a lot, perused the art of dying, of _killing._ And he’d imagined it oh so much, how it would _feel._ Especially when he was younger, when the bullies would lash him with their unkind speech, their words hitting him with a sting and seeping into his flesh to be remembered for eternity. Back then he wondered often what it would be like to stop his heart and let the darkness envelop him in a sweet serenity. He’d even tried several times to do the deed, to erase himself entirely from this cruel and uncaring world.

He remembered thinking, _why not?_ What was keeping him here? What could he possibly have to live for? And then he’d see his mother, and the thought of how his death might affect her, how heartbroken she’d be, well, it was almost enough to break his heart and keep him going. _Almost._ Even still, the dark thoughts would creep in and he’d contemplate his death. But the several failed attempts at taking his own life served as a sign for him that it wasn’t his time yet.

Now he felt the urge again. Felt the darkness starting to surround him, wrapping itself around him like an embrace from an old friend. He was so tempted to just give in to it, to let go and allow the darkness to swallow him completely. It felt like the right thing to do, like the _only_ thing to do. He’d been on the knife’s edge for weeks now, maybe it was just time to jump.

Nygma was still at work but Oswald had locked himself in the bathroom anyways, just to be safe. He paced back and forth as he pondered how he was going to go about it. He’d tried all the usual ways- drowning, hanging, jumping- but there was one thing he’d never tried. He stops in place as he comes to his conclusion, drawing the blade out of his back pocket. He stares at the blade for a moment, remembering all the people he’s killed with many blades similar to this one. Back then he hadn’t had the stomach to cut himself, couldn’t imagine using a knife to kill himself. Now he stares at the blade, standing over the sink because he still wants to be courteous to Nygma and not leave too much of a mess.

He wonders how he should do it, slit his wrists? Cut his throat? Stop his heart? Oswald nods subtly as he come to his decision. His heart is a cold, broken, dead thing anyway. Is it not fitting to end it all by stabbing himself in the useless organ? He rolls up his sleeve first, staring down at the cuts already left there from previous times. He draws the blade across his skin twice, just to get himself started, just to remind himself of the pain. He watches blankly as the blood drips into the sink. And then he starts to bring the blade up to his chest, starts to unbutton his shirt to reach his cold flesh. He’s staring at the sink, not wanting to look at himself when he does this.

“What are you doing?” His heart stops when he hears the voice behind him. He hadn’t even heard the door open.

His eyes flick up to the mirror and he looks at Ed standing behind him, concern and anger flashing across his expression simultaneously. And he begins to shake.

“I- I thought I’d locked that door.” He stumbles over his words.

“What are you doing?” His earlier question is a whisper now.

Oswald gulps.

Ed doesn’t mean to lose his temper, but he can’t help himself from gripping Oswald’s shoulders and spinning him around. He grips Oswald’s wrists tightly and Oswald winces. Seeing the pain cross Oswald’s face Ed loosens his grip. His eyes move to the cuts on Oswald’s wrist and the look on Ed’s face nearly breaks Oswald’s heart. He ought to feel shame, ought to feel _something._ But he doesn’t know _what_ to feel.

“Why?” Ed’s voice is glass breaking to shards.

“Because I can’t go on like this.” Oswald admits, his eyes starting to water. “I have nothing left.”

“You have me.” Ed’s friendship has been a light in the dark. But it’s not enough for Oswald.

“Every night,” Oswald’s voice breaks, “I relive that day. Over and over I watch my mother die in my arms.”

“Ossie.” Ed’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Why shouldn’t I do it?”

“Because I love you.” The words fly from Ed’s lips before he can think to filter them.

Oswald freezes, his already cold body freezing over entirely now. He can’t believe the words he’s just heard.

“What?”

Ed swallows, his hands slipping from Oswald’s wrists. “Oh _god_ how I love you.”

“I-.” Oswald doesn’t know what to say. But he knows that this confession doesn’t change anything. It’s too early for Ed’s love- if it really is that- to be so deep that Oswald’s disappearance would affect him.

“Please. _Please_ don’t kill yourself.” Ed’s eyes are filled with water but they don’t drip down his face.

The blade in Oswald’s hand slips, falls, and hits the ground with a loud clang. He can’t keep it together anymore. Oswald breaks down. The waterfall in his heart bursting through its dam and rushing out through his eyes. Ed pulls Oswald to him, strokes his hair softly.

“I can’t do it, Ed. I can’t keep going on alone.” His voice is muffled against Ed’s shirt.

“You don’t have to do it alone.” Ed says, holding him tighter.

Oswald looks up and into his steady eyes.

“If you let me, I’ll be by your side through it all.”

“Okay.” Oswald whispers, unsure if he should let this change anything.

Ed takes Oswald’s wrist, lightly this time. “Is this all of them?”

Oswald shakes his head.

“Show me.” His words are halfway between a whispered demand and a question. But Oswald obeys anyway, stripping off his layers to reveal his scarred arms and torso.

Ed sits him down on the side of the bathtub and presses band aides to his fresh cuts. And then he settles himself in front of Oswald, on his knees between his legs. And he can’t help himself, he presses his lips to Oswald’s cuts, lightly brushing away all the bad memories with his kisses. Oswald’s stomach flutters.

“What are you doing?” He asks, a light smile forming.

“You’re beautiful.” Ed breathes.

He wraps his arms around Oswald’s torso, wanting the other man to feel all his love, wanting him to know _just how much_ he cares for him. And then Oswald slips carefully down into the tub, dragging Nygma with him. Oswald reaches over and turns on the water. Then he leans back against Ed and puts his head against his chest, letting Ed’s steady heartbeat calm him.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Ed whispers to an almost asleep Oswald.

And they sit like that, Oswald sleeping peacefully while Ed strokes his hair and holds him tight, until the warm cascade turns cold and Ed is forced to turn off the water with his foot. And even then they don’t move, Ed eventually falls asleep as well.

Oswald doesn’t count this as just another failed suicide attempt, but another sign that it isn’t his time to go. So he sleeps instead, drawing warmth and strength from the man who just confessed his feelings for him. And in that sleep Oswald, for once, doesn’t dream of death.  

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Fluff/Angst challenge I'm doing over on Tumblr.


End file.
